Brêg hên (Wild Child)
by Eryniell
Summary: It’s a typical day in Imladris, and Estel is feeling lonely. What sort of trouble will he get into? Read and review, please!
1. Default Chapter

Summary: It's a typical day in Imladris, and Estel is feeling lonely. What sort of mischief will he get into?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This story is movieverse and book kind of combined, although I'd say it was more movieverse. I just said one line that is from the book.

The title isn't exactly what I'd like it to be, but because I wanted it to be in Sindarin, I had to stick with what I could find in my Sind/Eng dictionary.

A/N: I have lots of A/N's throughout this story, so I just decided to put them all at the bottom instead of making you read through them all before the story starts.

Brêg hên (Wild Child)

Estel wandered through the House of Elrond, trying to find something interesting to do. He eventually wandered to the kitchen, where chefs were preparing breakfast. The sweet smell of jam and fruit wafted through the air, accompanied by the popping sound of bacon frying.

"Hello, Lindir," Estel said as he moved over to stand next to one of the chefs. The tall elf's dark hair was pulled back so it wouldn't get in his face, and he turned his head to look down at the young human.

"Hello, young master. What brings you in here?" Lindir responded.

"There's nothing to do anywhere else," he sighed, peering over to see what Lindir was doing. "What are you making?"

"Cherry pie. Would you like to help?"

"Oh, yes, please! I'd love to." Estel eagerly nodded his head.

"Bring that bowl to me." Lindir pointed over to a ceramic bowl on the other countertop.

Estel proudly walked over and grabbed the bowl off of the high counter. He looked down and saw dozens of ripe, brilliant red cherries. He began to walk back over to Lindir, holding the heavy bowl. Suddenly, Estel pitched forward as he tripped over his own feet.

"Whoa!" he cried. The bowl flew out of his hands, sending cherries everywhere. As Estel scrambled back to his feet, he looked up at Lindir. The elf's fair face was red with splotches of cherry juice. Several of the small fruits were in his hair, or nestled into the folds of his clothing. Lindir growled, glaring at Estel, who stood innocently in front of him. Estel took the opportunity and turned and ran from the room, calling "I'm sorry" over his shoulder. 

Lindir advanced forward, yelling, "Come back here!", but slipped on the cherries that were strewn on the floor and landed on his back. Looking out the open doorway of the kitchen, he saw the small form of Estel dart around the corner.

Estel ran until he was sure Lindir wouldn't find him and then stopped, leaning against the wall as he caught his breath. While he rested, he heard someone quietly humming a song. Looking around, he saw that he was near his father's study. He got up and walked the short distance down the hallway and through the doorway.

Elrond was seated at a cluttered desk, humming as he wrote. A large open book lay in front of him, its pages fluttering lightly in the morning breeze. His dark hair flowed down around his shoulders, rested on the elegant embroidered shirt he wore.

"Hello, Father," Estel greeted as he curled up in a large, comfortable chair in the corner.

Elrond looked up and smiled at his adopted son. He placed his pen back in the ink bottle, closed his book, and leaned back in his chair. "Hello, Estel. How are you?"

"All right," Estel sighed, "although I believe Lindir is angry with me now."

"Lindir? The chef?" Elrond asked, and Estel nodded. "Why is he angry with you?"

So Estel told his father the story, and Elrond listened patiently. When Estel was nearing the end, and he described the appearance of Lindir, Elrond burst out laughing. "I'd like to see Lindir as a cherry pie," he said.

Estel giggled and got up from his chair. He walked over to his father's desk and leaned his head on Elrond's shoulder. "What were you writing about?" Estel asked, pointing to the book.

"Do you remember my friend Bilbo, the hobbit?"

"Mmhmm," Estel murmured.

"This is the book he's writing. He sent it to me so I could read it and make revisions." Elrond looked thoughtfully over at his son. "Estel, you're eight years old already. It's time you learned to write. You spend too much time out in the woods with your brothers. Come here." Elrond pulled the dark-haired boy up onto his lap and grabbed a blank sheet of paper from a shelf. He quickly wrote out the Tengwar alphabet and then handed the sheet to Estel. "Alright. You try to write these like I've written them."

Estel took the pen out of the ink bottle and held it in his hand, pressing the fine point to the paper. He slowly and carefully wrote the first few symbols, then moved his hand over to dip the pen back in the ink. He turned around to ask Elrond, "Am I doing this right?" Not looking at the pen, he pulled it back towards himself too soon, accidentally pulling the ink jar down with it. Black ink spilled all over the table, seeping through several of Elrond's papers and drenching Estel and Elrond.

"Oops," Estel gulped as Elrond quickly pulled the papers away from the spreading stain. He looked innocently up at his father. "I'm sorry."

Elrond sighed, looking down at his pale green shirt, which was now dotted with spots of black. "Go get cleaned up, young man. The come back here. You have a lot of cleaning to do." He pointed to the large black stain on the light wood of the desk.

"I'm sorry," Estel apologized again, trudging slowly towards the doorway.

"Go on, now! Off to your room," Elrond scolded. "You don't want that stain on your shirt to be permanent."

Estel hurried off to his room. Once there, he trudged over to his dresser and grabbed a new tunic out of the drawer. He was just about to go into the bathroom when his mother, Gilraen, walked into the room. She took one long look at him and raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'What happened to you?'

"First I spilled a bowl of cherries. Then I spilled an ink jar all over Father's desk. And now I have to go clean it _all_ up," Estel muttered.

Gilraen smiled in sympathy. "Well, my son, you had better go do as Lord Elrond wants. Give me your shirt."

Estel took off his white tunic and handed it to his mother. Then he quickly put on an old, dark green tunic and walked into the bathroom to wash the ink spots off of his hands. After he was done, he headed back to his father's room to wash the desk.

An hour later, Estel wandered through Imladris, massaging his sore hands. Feeling rather lonely again, he walked out to a courtyard to sit by himself, looking around for something to do that _wouldn't_ get him in trouble.

He looked over at the entrance to Imladris and saw several elves standing there, bows in hand and quivers full of arrows on their backs. Among the group were his older foster brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. He ran over to the two men and looked up at them.

"Hello," he said happily. "Where are you going?"

"Hunting," Elladan said, strapping a dagger to his belt.

"Can I come?"

"No, Estel," Elrohir responded. "You're not old enough."

"But I've been practicing," Estel said.

"No. You can't come. Besides, we're going to be gone until nightfall, most likely. You'll get too tired."

"No, I won't! Please, let me come!" he pleaded.

"You are not coming hunting with us! Is that understood?" Elrohir said sternly.

Estel lowered his head. "Fine." With a glare at his brother, he stomped away from the hunting party and climbed up a nearby tree. He sat there in the tree, angrily watching his brothers as they walked out towards the woods. A few minutes later, his jealousy getting the better of him, he swung down from the tree and raced silently after his siblings.

In the forest, Estel silently crept through the grass and leaves, using the skills his brothers had taught him to unnoticed. He looked around and to his left, through a gap in some bushes, saw his brothers and the hunting party. Crawling carefully under the bushes, he saw what everyone had their bows aimed at. A large brown deer, a buck, was standing in a clearing, watching its family who was nearby drinking from the stream. Estel crept up to Elladan's side and whispered, "Are you going to shoot him?"

Elladan turned with a look of surprise on his face before glaring at his younger brother. "What are you doing here?!" he whispered harshly.

"I—I just wanted to help," Estel whispered.

"Well, you can't! Go home!"

By this time, all of the other elves in the hunting party were watching the argument between the two brothers and Elladan blushed slightly in embarrassment, feeling silly for arguing with an eight-year-old.

Elrohir sighed, taking control of the situation like he always had to. "Estel, what did we tell you before? Go home, please."

"I don't want to. Can I just watch?" Estel pleaded.

"Fine. Just stay out of the way and don't make a sound," Elrohir commanded.

Estel turned around and sat back against a nearby tree. He heard several exasperated sighs and looked up to find all of the deer gone.

"Now look what he's done. That would have been a perfect shot had _he_ not come and disturbed us," Elladan muttered.

Estel rested his head against the tree trunk, watching as Elladan got up and silently crept through the grass to find the deer again. The others also spread out, searching for more game. As he looked at his brother, Estel saw something out of the corner of his eye. A huge black bear was climbing down a flow of stone. The bear's padded feet made no noise on the rock, and Elladan's back was to it so he didn't notice it. But the bear noticed Elladan. He began to advance toward the tall elf. Estel turned around, glancing fearfully back at the others, but they weren't paying attention. Estel spun back around, just as Elladan turned, a look of horror on his fair face. The bear lifted its huge paw and batted Elladan to the side. The light elf flew through the air, and his bow soared out of his hand and landed near Estel's feet.

As the bear loomed over Elladan, prepared to strike the elf again, Estel looked back and knew that the others were too far away to help. He picked up Elladan's long, dark wood bow, took a deep breath, and ran towards the bear, yelling at the top of his lungs to draw the animal towards him. The bear looked up and began advancing towards him, leaving Elladan panting on the ground. Estel looked over his shoulder as he slowly backed away and saw someone's extra quiver full of arrows laying on the ground. Carefully going backwards, he made sure the bear was still following him until he reached the quiver. He slowly reached down and picked up one of the dark wooden arrows, never taking his eyes off of the black bear in front of him. He slowly fit the arrow onto the bow, glad to see from the red-marked tip that this arrow contained a poison that would kill an animal quickly, and drew it back, aiming carefully.

Estel loosed it, and the arrow flew smoothly through the air and pierced the bear's side. The animal swayed as the poison quickly took effect and it slowly lay on the ground, its eyelids closed.

By now, some of the others had heard Estel and reached the clearing. Elrohir glanced quickly at the dead bear, then at his young human brother, who stood with the bow in his hands.

When Estel saw Elrohir, he quickly dropped the weapon and ran towards the elf. "Elladan's injured," he cried, and took his brother's hand, pulling him to the place where Elladan lay.

The dark-haired elf gazed up at his brothers, his face pale. He slowly sat up, muttering, "Naught but a scratch," but both Estel and Elrohir noticed him wince as he sat up.

Elrohir sighed. It seemed that both of his brothers were too stubborn for their own good, although Estel's stubbornness had paid off in this situation. "Elladan, remove your hand," he commanded, nodding towards his twin's hand, which was placed firmly over his ribs.

Elladan slowly pulled aside his hand to reveal several gashes in his side. They were not deep, but very painful. Blood flowed from the wound, staining his dark green tunic. "I'm alright," he said, and stood up. He started to stagger away, saying, "I suppose we should go home now." When he had gone no more than a few steps, Elladan dropped to his knees, grabbing his side.

Elrohir ran over and knelt down next to his brother. "Elladan, you're injured. Don't hurt yourself further just to hide your pain," Elrohir advised. He looked up at Glorfindel, who had accompanied them on the hunting trip. "How far are we from Imladris?"

"No more than a mile, my lord," Glorfindel answered.

"I would call my horse, were he not injured at the moment," Elrohir mused quietly. He looked up at Glorfindel and asked, "Can Asfaloth hear you from here?" 

Glorfindel nodded. "Shall I call him?" At Elrohir's nod, Glorfindel gave a shrill, complicated whistle that seemed to echo through the trees for a long while before it faded. "Asfaloth will come soon," Glorfindel murmured. Then he looked down at Elladan, who was once more sprawled out on the ground. "In the meantime, we don't have any herbs or bandages, do we?"

Elrohir sighed. "No, we did not plan for such a circumstance. We'll have to wait until we reach Imladris."

Estel, who had been forgotten for the moment, spoke up. "Do not worry! I can help!" He ran off, searching the ground for something.

Elladan groaned. "_Now_ what trouble is he going to cause?"

In a nearby clearing, Estel saw a plant growing near the base of a tree, and plucked a few leaves off before dashing back to the others, his prize in hand. He opened his hand to reveal the long leaves and grinned at his brothers.

"Athelas," one of the elves breathed.

Elrohir chuckled. "Not even nine years old and already he has more sense than any of us."

"Hand me your water bag, please, Glorfindel, sir," Estel commanded as he held out his hand to receive it. Kneeling down next to Elladan, he quickly ripped off a piece of the bottom of his own tunic and laid the athelas leaves on it. Then, ripping off another small piece of fabric, Estel poured a little water onto it and gently cleaned the blood from Elladan's wound. Picking up the athelas leaves again, Estel crushed them in his hand and mixed a little water into the herb. He quickly spread the moistened athelas onto the strip of cloth and wound it around Elladan's side. The dark-haired elf hissed in pain, but relaxed as the healing plant began to take its effect.

"There," Estel said. "That should make it hurt less."

Elladan looked up at his young brother. "Thank you, Estel. I probably would have died had you not come to my rescue. I—I'm sorry that I was angry with you earlier."

"Oh, it's alright," Estel responded.

In a few minutes a white horse could be seen galloping quickly up the hill. The horse came up to Glorfindel's side and the blond elf murmured words of thanks to Asfaloth, stroking the horse's white mane.

Elrohir and another elf helped Elladan stand up and walk over to Asfaloth. Elrohir hoisted his brother up and then climbed onto the horse himself. He turned around to face Glorfindel. "I will take Elladan back to Imladris and return after I've taken him to the healers." Then Elrohir gazed down at Estel. "You stay with the others and keep out of the way. I'll return soon to take you home. Understood?"

Estel nodded solemnly.

Elrohir turned, wrapping his arms around Elladan's waist and holding gently onto the horse's mane. He softly called out, "_Noro path a noro bell, Asfaloth_," * and the white horse sped down the hill.

As Asfaloth became nothing more than a spot in the distance, Glorfindel turned to Estel. "You did well today, young one. You will make an excellent healer one day should you stay in Imladris."

Estel smiled up at Glorfindel, proud that something had finally gone right for him that day.

~ Seventy-nine years later ~

Aragorn slowly stood from his position over Boromir's body and looked sadly up at Gimli and Legolas. _All that I have done today has gone amiss_, he thought.

Soon, they silently began the solemn task of carrying Boromir's body down to the shore. They laid him in a boat, placing his Lorien cloak under his head, and carefully pushed it out into the water. The three men watched it float slowly to the edge of the lake and disappear over the Falls of Rauros.

Legolas then ran over to the remaining boat. "Hurry. Frodo and Sam have reached the eastern shore." He looked up at Aragorn who was standing gazing at the waterfall. Aragorn buckled Boromir's bracers onto his wrists and turned his gaze to Legolas.

"You mean not to follow them," Legolas observed.

"Frodo's fate not longer rests in our hands," Aragorn responded.

Gimli stalked over to them. "Then it has all been in vain. The fellowship has failed."

Aragorn looked down at the ground, lost in memories. He thought of one day in his childhood, when, like this day, almost everything had gone wrong. But then he remembered the hunt in the woods, and him saving his brother's life. He looked back up, full of renewed hope. Maybe something _could_ go right today. He put his hands on Gimli and Legolas' shoulders and said, "Not as long as we remain true to each other. We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left." He sheathed his sword, commanding, "Leave all that can be spared behind. We travel light." With a grim smile, he said, "Let's hunt some orc." 

THE END

*_Noro path a noro bell, Asfaloth._ Ride smooth and ride strong, Asfaloth. Thank you to Jocelyn's story A Little Nudge Out of the Door for this small bit of vocabulary. By the way, if you haven't read her story yet, I _highly_ recommend that you do, because it's incredibly good.

Okay, here are all the A/N: 

I didn't know what Lindir's job is, because he's just a very minor character from the book, so I made him a chef.

I don't know if they have cherries or cherry trees in Rivendell, but Lindir makes a cherry pie anyway because I like cherries.

I don't know if Tengwar is an alphabet or represents different sounds, so don't kill me if I'm wrong.

And I know bears probably wouldn't attack humans or elves, but I needed some sort of scary forest animal and I couldn't think of anything else.

I have no idea if athelas grows anywhere near Rivendell, but it does in my story. And I'm not sure if the procedure of using athelas is right, because in the book Aragorn uses boiling water, but they didn't build a fire to boil water in my story, so the procedure of using the athelas may not be entirely factual.

By the way, they're speaking Sindarin the entire time in this story, but since I do not speak fluent Sindarin and I'm sure you don't either, most of it is written in just plain English.

Please review! Your thoughts on this story will be very appreciated.


	2. Author's Note

Due to ONE request, I'm going to write more young Aragorn stories, but only if I get more reviews for this one. So please review my story. *gets down on the ground and begs*


End file.
